


With Eyes Wide Shut

by optimusfine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfine/pseuds/optimusfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out Duncs is into having his hair pulled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Eyes Wide Shut

**Author's Note:**

> Implications of oral sex. Much love forever to my fantastic beta pickedoffthird; without her, this fic never would have come to fruition. Title stolen from _Sometimes_ by Miami Horror, and the story takes place sometime in the 2011-2012 season.

Everyone knows that Duncan Keith doesn't fight. He doesn't like it, he's not good at it, and he doesn’t know why people think he should when he doesn't want to.

None of that, however, explains why he's bleeding from his lip, a nasty bruise already beginning to shine on the high curve of his cheek, or why Alexandre Burrows, of all people, is in a similar state.

Burrows smirks at Duncan from where he's sitting astride the defenseman's hips, no matter how much Duncan is twisting and shifting and bucking to dislodge Burrows from his perch.

"Give up yet, _Keith_?"

The way Burrows spits the name makes it sound like a curse, and Duncan twists his fingers tighter in Burrows' shirt, tight enough that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails leave little half crescent marks in the fabric.

"Not on your fucking life, _Burrows_."

\--

It’s an unknown amount of time later when Burrows finally has Duncan pinned for good, completely immobile under the weight of Burrows' body and mouth.

Duncan makes a soft sound against Burrows' lips, not sure if he wants to pull away or press closer or what the fuck he even wants to do anymore. There are so, so many things wrong with this -- the first and most important one being that this is _Alexandre fucking Burrows_ , and how stupid is Duncan, honestly? -- but he's restless and frustrated and if his only options are fucking and fighting, which is what they appear to be, he's going to choose fucking.

Besides, Burrows kissed him first.

\--

"You _are_ good at this, Keith."

Duncan would look offended at how surprised Burrows sounds if his mouth wasn't currently occupied, twisted into a shape around Burrows' cock that probably just looks nothing short of ridiculous when he glares up at Burrows.

Given the way Burrows laughs at him -- the bastard actually _laughs_ , which is either very sexy or very stupid; the heat that jumps down Duncan’s spine apparently agrees with the former -- he absolutely does look ridiculous, and Duncan narrows his eyes the second before he curls his tongue one way and twists his wrist the other.

Burrows lets out a noise that sounds very much like a sob, and Duncan grins.

\--

Burrows' cell phone goes off sometime in between when Duncan’s jaw is beginning to ache and when Duncan is beginning to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Especially when Burrows actually has the nerve to attempt to sit up, which is absolutely not happening, as far as Duncan is concerned.

Duncan growls, sliding his free hand up from where he was fiddling with the buttons on his own jeans to slam down against Burrows' hip, keeping him pinned even though Duncan’s one hand shouldn't be enough to keep Burrows against the bed.

" _No_."

The word is muffled slightly, because Duncan’s tongue isn't working quite right, smacking against his teeth in a way that reminds him too much of last year. But it works enough for Burrows, who hooks his knee around Duncan’s ribs and slides his hand from the back of Duncan’s neck into his hair.

There’s a tug on the strands, obviously trying to direct Duncan’s head back towards Burrows' cock, except colors flash in Duncan’s vision and he sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of Burrows' thigh instead.

\--

The hotel bed is softer than Duncan thinks it has any right to be, except he can only appreciate the softness of the bed for the split second of time he has before he starts being very, very confused at why he's suddenly facedown, and what the hell happened to Burr-

Fingers slide into the curls at the back of Duncan’s neck, threading into the dark strands before they're yanked, sharply, painfully, and Duncan only barely manages to stifle his loud moan by clamping his teeth around his fist.

Burrows' voice is low, the French words curling around the shell of Duncan’s ear like cigarette smoke, punctuated by another hard tug on Duncan’s curls that nearly has him in fits.

\--

Duncan’s lip is bleeding again, and so is Burrows' nose from when Duncan tossed his head back and Burrows didn't manage to duck in time. Duncan is pretty sure the blood is dripping onto his head, which should be really gross except it's probably the cleanest liquid on him right now, and he is a hockey player; blood doesn't bother him.

"You’re kind of a bastard, Burrows, you know that?"

Burrows laughs in a way that shouldn't be sexy but _is_ , and Duncan narrows his eyes at that thought before he mentally shrugs it off.

Orgasms do strange things to a person, after all.

"And you are much easier than I would have assumed, Keith."

They’re still on a last name basis, which is absolutely fine with Duncan, who simply snorts and then rolls out of the bed, grimacing when the sheets stick to his skin.

"Ew."

\--

When Duncan gets out of the shower, the bed is empty because Burrows is gone, but that isn't surprising.

What _is_ surprising, however, is the little post-it note that's left on the pillow, standing out in stark highlighter yellow against the floral pillowcase print.

 _Keith-_

 _See you in the playoffs!_

 _P.S. You're kind of a bitch._

Underneath that is a phone number, scrawled in almost illegible handwriting, and Duncan shakes his head before folding the post-it note and sticking it in his back pocket.

It takes a little under five minutes for Duncan to find all of his clothes -- save for one sock, which he's pretty sure Burrows stole just to fuck with him, the bastard -- and he pulls his baseball cap low over his eyes when he walks out, just to make sure no one recognizes him.

No one does, of course, and he's out of the hotel with nothing left but the injuries on his face and the note in his pocket.

\--

Everyone knows that Duncan Keith doesn't fight.

Except for when he does. 


End file.
